


holding you in my sepia thoughts

by Amymel86



Series: Jonsa Drabblefest May 2020 [14]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Historical, British Civilian!Sansa, Drabble, F/M, WWII, WWII US Soldier!Jon, jonsa drabblefest, short fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-17
Updated: 2020-05-17
Packaged: 2021-03-02 18:49:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 441
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24231628
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Amymel86/pseuds/Amymel86
Summary: If he wrote... if he asked... would she come to him? Would life with him be enough? That's an awful big ask to pen in a letter.
Relationships: Jon Snow/Sansa Stark
Series: Jonsa Drabblefest May 2020 [14]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1738762
Comments: 13
Kudos: 131
Collections: Jon x Sansa Drabble





	holding you in my sepia thoughts

**Author's Note:**

  * For [vivilove](https://archiveofourown.org/users/vivilove/gifts).



> heeey! so I said I wanted to post a second drabble for the 'free day' of the drabblefest and here is my late entry. If you're on tumblr then you may have already seen the manip that I'd already posted on @jonsa-creatives to celebrate VE Day but I kept thinking that it needed an accompanying drabble - so here it is! I hope you like it!
> 
> Dedicated to Vivi because she shares my love for historical aus!

Jon stroked the photograph with the pad of this thumb. A sepia scene of when he was last with her. The war was done, he was a lucky son of a bitch to get out of Europe with his life. Many of his friends hadn't. The tones didn't do her justice; the copper of her hair, the cornflower blue of her eyes, the explosion of lightness he felt in his chest whenever he was with her. He can remember it like it was just yesterday; the way he'd reached British shores again and Sansa Stark had helped him forget all the mud and the blood and the shouts and gunfire.  
  
He still thinks of her today, months on. Uses the memory of her as a kind of coping when the phantom sounds of a Luftwaffe mix with Spitfire mix with his rifle mix with the dying screams of Pyp mix with-  
  
 _Breathe._  
  
He's on American soil. He's back on his mother's farm. And she needs him to be a man, not a blubbering, shaking mess.  
  
Jon looks over the photograph again. Keeps it safe in his bedside drawer. Can still hear the brass band that played that night, the cheers, the throaty way she laughed when he kissed just below her ear, how her skin beneath her dress felt softer than silk.  
  
She has no idea - _no idea_ as she goes about her days back in her English village that she's the only thing keeping him together.  
  
If he wrote... if he asked... would she come to him? Would life with him be enough? That's an awful big ask to pen in a letter.  
  
Jon stuffed his cherished photograph hastily under his pillow when his mother, in her morning flurry hustled into the room. She offers him a tentative smile and then something even better. "Telegram for you, Jon," she said, handing him the paper. "Came this morning."  
  
Jon looks at the printed words, not bothering to conceal the tremor in his hand.  
  
 _Mr J Snow,  
  
I miss you dearly.  
  
Miss S Stark_  
  
It was _her._  
  
"Ma?" he said, wetting his lips, "you can spare me on the farm this morning to go to the telegraph office, right?"  
  
With a kind hand cupping his face as he looked up at her, his mother smiled knowingly. "And I suppose you'll be fixin' to borrow some money for this telegram you wanna send?"  
  
"She's worth it, ma."  
  
"She better be," Lyanna chuckled."They charge by the word, you know. Make it brief."  
  
Jon swallowed. His stomach felt like he was out on the ocean. "Is _'come be my wife'_ short enough for you?"


End file.
